Wind Chimes
by The Unlucky 13
Summary: Takes place during "Little Green Men" and hints towards "Eye of the Storm", my idea of what would happen (and should have happened) between Willa and Timo. Now a sort-of series of short one-shots following the plot of the story. Sorry this is so short, but something is better than nothing. Right?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Sorry I've dropped off the radar lately, I've had writer's block and it has just been crazy over all for me. It has taken me almost a month to get this as good as I want it. So I've never completely abandoned my writing. This takes place during "Little Green Men" and hints towards "Eye of the Storm".

_Italics: what Willa is thinking_

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><p>Wind Chimes<p>

The one story she never dared lie about was her own. One that not even Leo and Walter's wind chimes could chase away from her nightmares.

It was three hours when Willa finally broke. It was a new personal record. She rested her head softly on her arms on top the dark mahogany table of The Ends of the Earth bar. All the other chairs except for one, had been stacked on top of these tables. Willa usually was assigned of closing up at eleven o'clock sharp. But that task had yet to be completed at this hour. She was too busy reencountering the meeting she had with Uncle Shad, she didn't hear the soft thieving steps across the solid ground.

"Willa? What are you doing here so late, closing time was hours ago?" Timo's soft voice echoed his curiosity through the silence.

_ "No he can't see me like this, so weak." _Willa tried to pull herself together but it was too late. The silent tears had already streaked across her face, betraying her cold exoskeleton.

"Wills?", this question was closer now and she could see his shadow out of the corner of her eye. When he saw her tears, his face changed from his childish intrusiveness to something filled with compassion and sorrow."Oh, Wills". Timo pulled a chair down and plopped down next to her. "Come here.", he gently commanded her with his arms spread wide. Willa climbed blindly into his lap for the salty streams now evaded her vision. A small whimper bubbled up from her lips and she could no longer be quiet now. He clutched her tighter to his chest. "Just let it out, Wills. Everything will be alright." He rubbed circles across her back as she stained his shirt with her tears. Willa knew that this was wrong for his warm embrace belonged to someone else, his lover Magdalena. But for something so wrong, it felt so right for her. It wouldn't last, though. Willa could see the future clearly plan out for her like the night sky. When the sun will come up it will bring along a new day, and new opportunities for him to ignore her. The next day she would have to dry her tears and get up for work. Willa would avoid his gaze as he denied what had happened, and most importantly denied her. As he would refuse to acknowledge this gesture of kindness she would too. But the last thing Willa would do, could do, was forget. And as he continued to love another and toy with her emotions, she would transform into a colder more guarded version of herself. "Willa, I can feel you pushing me away. Just let me in Willa. Take down your walls this one time. Stop pretending to be stronger than we all know." His affectionate voice broke through her reverie. A new bout of fresh sobs overtook Willa once again.

_ "Pretend, who was he to accuse me of pretending. After all this is just pretend, an act. Another way to screw around with me, playing mind games, the thing he did best since I was five years old." _Timo was like a drug to her. No matter how many times he hurt her she always came back to him. Her inner masochist was intent on punishing her with the humiliation of her most crucial piece. Her heart. Willa knew that she was free to leave him at any time, there was no physical tie that routed her firmly to her place beside him. But the strongest hold of all was psychological. After distancing herself from all the objects in motion in her life. From her alcoholic mother, to her abusive foster family, to her time in prison. It was enough to drive the sane person to the brinks of sociopaths and disassociation. But Willa was strong. Strong enough that she wasn't pretending anything. The only thing she wasn't strong enough for was a heartbreak. But as she looked into the chocolate pools of Timo Proud, his orbs carefully analyzing the hurt on her face she couldn't deny her love for him but she knew of the obvious. "You'll never love me, Timo." his face contorted in a mask of pain and shock. Willa's heart froze in her chest and stopped. And with her last shred of rationality gone she pressed a salty kiss on his lips. One that Willa had been holding back for nine years. She had made her choice. And Timo had too. Willa's heart thudded and threatened to burst in her chest. He was kissing her back.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This takes place right after Chapter 1. Sorry for the delay!

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><p>A cheerful breakfast plate was placed in front of both Walter and Leo. "What the hell is this?", Walter was astonished at the sight before them. Each plastic platter was adorned with two eggs sunny side up, a strawberry nose, and a strip of bacon facing upwards instead of Willa's signature scowl.<p>

"Breakfast." She quickly answered while avoiding any direct gaze from Walter's confused ones. Willa turned away and pretended to be focused on the task of cleaning the pan in the sink.

"Since when do sociopaths cook breakfast." Walter sputtered hilariously. But he was quieted when he was met with Willa's harsh stare. The stiff metal of her pot slipped from her cold grasp and clattered against the tile floor.

"I'm not a sociopath.", she spit back at him. "I'm not crazy, unlike some people here. " Walter gave her his special unconvinced look.

"I'm _not_ a sociopath." and then silence. "I'm not." Willa answered again, but she continued quieter as if she was trying to convince herself. The response was feeble and weak, hurt. Something that was entirely different from Willa. But only then did he realize that there were red and purple bags under her puffy eyes.

"Have you been crying?" Walter was stunned. "_Well, our little Willa has feelings_." He thought to himself wryly.

"No?" she phrased it as a question, almost unsure of the answer. Willa's eyes were cast down, trying to hide the evidence.

"No, of course not." She tried again a little stronger. Her hard wipes to her wet cheeks betrayed any of her newfound resolve, though. Walter reached out and grabbed her chin and forced her upwards. An old habit caused her to flinch instinctively back and a part of her brain recognized what this action had meant to her in the past, pain and fear. Willa jerked back from his grasp and Walter watched as her eyes flashed with anger.

"Since when do sociopaths have feelings?" She spit back at him. Mocking his earlier words before storming out from behind the counter, abandoning the pot wet and dripping on the tile floor.

A cheerful breakfast plate was placed in front of both Walter and Leo. "What the hell is this?", Walter was astonished at the sight before them. Each plastic platter was adorned with two eggs sunny side up, a strawberry nose, and a strip of bacon facing upwards instead of Willa's signature scowl.

"Breakfast." She quickly answered while avoiding any direct gaze from Walter's confused ones. Willa turned away and pretended to be focused on the task of cleaning the pan in the sink.

"Since when do sociopaths cook breakfast." Walter sputtered hilariously. But he was quieted when he was met with Willa's harsh stare. The stiff metal of her pot slipped from her cold grasp and clattered against the tile floor.

"I'm not a sociopath.", she spit back at him. "I'm not crazy, unlike some people here. " Walter gave her his unconvinced look.

"I'm _not_ a sociopath." and then silence. "I'm not." Willa answered again, but she continued quieter as if she was trying to convince herself. The response was feeble and weak, hurt. Something that was entirely different from Willa. But only then did he realize that there were red and purple bags under her puffy eyes.

"Have you been crying?" Walter was stunned. "_Well, our little Willa has feelings_." He thought to himself wryly.

"No?" she phrased it as a question, almost unsure of the answer. Willa's eyes were cast down, trying to hide the evidence.

"No, of course not." She tried again a little stronger. Her hard wipes to her wet cheeks betrayed any of her newfound resolve, though. Walter reached out and grabbed her chin and forced her upwards. An old habit caused her to flinch instinctively back and a part of her brain recognized what this action had meant to her in the past, pain and fear. Willa jerked back from his grasp and Walter watched as her eyes flashed with anger.

"Since when do sociopaths have feelings?" She spit back at him. Mocking his earlier words before storming out from behind the counter, abandoning the pot wet and dripping on the tile floor.


End file.
